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3*1

Down the hill there was a volley, then a burst of shouting.
The second explosion struck, less powerful than the first
Before its reverberations had fulfilled themselves, there was
the third, still farther off. There'll be one more, Mr. Munn
thought, the Alta warehouse, the last one. He clamped his
knees and his knuckles tightened on the rein. A single tongue
of flame, curved like a whiplash In the fresh wind, towered
beyond the roofs at the foot of the slope.

The last blast came, and its echoes died off.

" A million dollars," a man remarked, loud but prayerfully
" a million dollars, and gone just like that."

Now the sky was reddening with the flames,

"Gone," another voice rejoined flatly, "like them salts
through the widder-woman."

Down Jefferson, Mr. Sills' men swung the corner again.
Again there was their volley. Then there was silence; and
then, from an indeterminate direction, a sound like the sound
of a horn, low-pitched, pervasive, penetrating. It came three
times.

** They're blowing now," somebody said.

"They're gitten ready to go, bio wen on that shotgun
ban!"

" They'll be coming soon/' Mr. Munn said. " Right up by
this corner."

" There they come now," a man called," some of 'em."

A group of men were turning into Main Street, two blocks
down. Just around the corner they stopped, and clustered
together on the pavement. Mr. Munn strained his eyes
toward them. He could not tell what they were doing. No
more men came from around the corner. The group was still
clustered there, milling about, Then two figures detached
themselves from it. One figure seemed to stagger toward the
middle of the street, then it fell The other disappeared
around the comer.

Some of the men in the group down there were, apparently,
entering a building. No one paid any attention to the igurt
that lay in the street.